


Dropping in on Old Enemies

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone  (The 1st 100) [68]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:45:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: Illya stubbles across an enemy they thought was dead.





	

It had been decades since the old water mill had been in operation. The wheel was rotting and the stone building was crumbling, yet it looked beautiful nestled amongst the overgrown foliage. Not that Illya Kuryakin had any inclination to admire the surrounding beauty. It was what he couldn't see which held his interest.

Two days previously, U.N.C.L.E. agents had infiltrated a symposium which a THRUSH scientist was known to be attending. Dr Graham was then brought to New York for an in-depth questioning, and after several hours, gave up the location of a chemical production plant. According to the doctor, the facility was where truth serums were developed and tested. Illya had been despatched to reconnoitre the area before a proper plan could be put into place. Pulling out his communicator, he called HQ.

"How goes it, partner mine?"

"Not good, Napoleon," Illya confessed. "Would you tell me, again, the directions I was supposed to follow."

"Don't tell me you're lost."

Illya chose to ignore the mocking tone in his partner's voice, knowing it would worsen if he admitted that he could actually be lost.

"Okay, you were to go north from town, following the river for a mile and a half."

"This is what I have done," the Russian told him. "I have been at least three miles along the river and back, and all I have found is an ancient mill."

"I'll call you back."

As we waited for his partner to get back to him, Illya began a more meticulous search of the area. Dr Graham had told them that the installation was mainly above ground, with a single basement level, but there was no harm in looking for a hidden entrance to an underground facility.

It was at least five minutes before his communicator started beeping, and as Illya answered it, the ground suddenly gave way beneath his feet. He tried to grab on anything with reach as the earth swallowed him up, but everything he caught hold of came away in his hand. In his office, Napoleon was instantly on his feet at the sound of the Illya's surprised cry.

"Illya! Tovarisch, talk to me!"

When no response was forthcoming, Napoleon snatched up the phone and called communications.

"Joanne, is Mr Kuryakin's channel still open?"

"Yes it is."

"I've lost contact with him," he informed her. "Keep trying to raise him. I'm going to Mr Waverly's office."

In the boss's office, Napoleon apprised Mr Waverly of the situation. The old man gestured for the CEA while called for the file on the mission.

"It would appear that we have been misled by Dr Graham, but then that is why Mr Kuryakin was checking up on the information in the first place. I take it you wish to go and retrieve him."

"Yes Sir," Solo conceded. "Apart from anything else, he could be injured."

"Indeed, indeed," Waverly replied, as he chewed the end of his pipe. "Very well, Mr Solo. We shall continue to attempt communication with Mr Kuryakin. Call in when you arrive at the mill."

..........

Illya opened his eyes and groaned. He wasn't sure how far he'd fallen, but it had been far enough to turn him into one massive bruise. Carefully sitting himself up, he peered into the gloom, and could just make out that he was in a tunnel. He thought about fishing his flashlight from his pocket, but decided against it; thinking it would be more prudent to retain his night vision. After making sure he hadn't broken anything, Illya got to his feet and began to inch his way along the tunnel.

He hadn't gone far, when he was stopped in his tracks by a blinding light. From beyond the glow came a voice Illya recognised.

"Hello, Mr Kuryakin. How very nice of you to drop in on us."

"I take it the information we were given was false," Illya stated flatly, brushing himself down.

"Up to a point," confirmed Dr Agnes Dabree* as she stepped from behind the light. She had two heavily armed guards with her. "The personnel at the facility have been conditioned, against their knowledge, to give this location if they are captured and questioned. As soon as you took Dr Graham, we knew your agency would send someone here. By the way, there is an easier way into the tunnels, but there is a certain poetic justice to you dropping in. Especially after what you partner did to me."

"You're looking well, considering."

As far as Illya was concerned, the misfortune of falling down an elevator shaft was entirely her own doing.

"If you would you allow one of these gentlemen to cuff your hands behind you, I shall take you to the facility."

The woman's tone was as an adult to a child, but Illya refused to be baited in that way. He merely submitted to being handcuffed, keeping silent. Despite his cool, dismissive demeanour, a fear was growing within him. Dr Dabree was a classic mad scientist, who would do anything to achieve the results she wanted. Illya had an uncomfortable feeling he was going to learn first-hand just what they did at the hidden facility. His prior dealings with the woman probably guaranteed it. His one consolation was that he'd been in contact with Napoleon when he fell, so help should already be on the way.

Dabree led him along about a mile of tunnels until they emerged into a large cavern. Illya's attention was immediately drawn to the mass of drilling equipment, which was right in the centre of the space. His forehead crumpled in confusion.

"You weren't expecting the drill, Mr Kuryakin?" the doctor mockingly queried.

"Not in a chemical production plant, no."

"A new mineral was discovered," Dabree explained, apparently unconcerned that he was the enemy. "I won't give you the chemical breakdown because I doubt someone like you would understand."

Illya cocked an eyebrow at the insult, but said nothing. He didn't want to impede her from giving him any useful information.

"Our scientists have been experimenting with it for six months," Dabree continued. "Recently they managed to produce an hallucinogenic truth serum. Rather than tell you what it does, I think it would be much more enlightening for you to take part in a practical demonstration."

…

Other than his car, Napoleon could find no sign of Illya at old mill. As he made a more comprehensive search, he felt something breaking beneath his foot. Looking down, Solo found the now broken pieces of Illya's communicator. Bending down to retrieve it, Napoleon became aware of the concealed hole in the ground. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was where Illya had gone. Pushing the ground foliage aside, Napoleon called down the hole. There was no reply. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a dime and dropped it into the opening. The sound of the coin hitting the bottom told Napoleon there was a drop of about fifteen feet. If he was careful, he should be able to do it without any problems.

…..

Illya found himself in an all too familiar position. He was naked, yet again, and was shackled to a medical examination table which was inclined to a forty-five degree angle. The agent was honestly beginning to think that all members of THRUSH had some sort of fetish. It didn't help that the room he was in was freezing. The mad doctor filled a syringe with a purple hued liquid and stood to his left.

"I would apologise for your state of undress, but it necessary," she told him. "We've found that the serum alters the brain chemistry much more easily if the subject is cold."

Dabree savagely stuck the needle into Illya's shoulder then, smiling, she stood back and waited.

….

Napoleon's attempts to navigate the tunnels were beginning to wear on his last nerve. He'd been walking around for thirty minutes before he finally found some signs of occupation. Sliding his gun from its holster, Napoleon edged towards what appeared to be a laboratory of some sort. Luckily for him, there were several nooks along the tunnel, so when the lab door opened he was able to conceal himself. A large man, with a bushy beard and a lab coat emerged from the room, but was stopped by a call from inside. A woman stepped out and handed him a file.

"Dr Dabree wants this file," she told him. "She's got her hands on that Russian UNCLE agent. This is his dossier."

Solo could hardly believe the name he'd just heard. He'd felt sure they'd heard the last of her when she'd taken her tumble down the elevator shaft. If she had Illya, then it was a safe bet she would have revenge in her heart. Keeping his distance, Napoleon followed the bearded man.

Illya was shivering uncontrollably, not that he was fully cognisant of the reason. When Dabree had shot him full of the new truth serum he had fought hard against his bonds. After a while, realising that his mind was slipping, he had fought much harder. It didn't take long for the hallucinations to begin.

Illya figured the reason he was cold was because he was out in the snow-laden woods without his jacket. His mother would give him a long telling off when he returned home.

"Where are you?" the doctor asked.

Illya heard the voice, and recognised it as his grandmother. He couldn't see her at first, but then he saw her, sitting on a tree stump. She was facing away from him, but he knew it was her from her green woollen coat and red scarf.

"Babushka!" he cried.

Dabree didn't understand Russian, but everyone knew the word Babushka. Kuryakin clearly thought she was his grandmother, and given how excited he sounded to see her, she knew she would be able to use the fact against him.

"How are you today, Illya?"

A small part of the captive agent's mind wondered briefly why his babushka was speaking English, but the thought was soon lost.

"I'm cold," he told her. "I forgot my coat and Mama won't be happy."

"Don't worry, little one," she soothed, stepping forward to stroke his head. "I'll make you warm soon. Would you like to play a game?"

Illya nodded. He'd always loved playing games with his grandmother. With Mama and Papa being so busy, he and his sisters spent a lot of time with the older woman.

"Okay, let's have a quiz."

"What do I win?" Illya demanded.

"If you get a question right . . ."

The door opened suddenly, disrupting the flow. Dabree snapped round and confronted the man who had entered.

"What do you want, Murray?" she snapped. "I was starting to get somewhere."

"I'm sorry, doctor," the man replied. "I was told you needed the Kuryakin dossier."

"Ded Moroz," Illya breathed, clearly in awe of the man with the beard.

It wasn't even New Year, yet there was no mistaking the gift-giver in his heavy, snowflake adorned coat. Dabree looked from Illya to the bearded lab tech with confusion.

"What is Ded Moroz?"

"I remember reading it somewhere," Murray told her. "I think it means Grandfather Frost. He's kinda like the Russian Santa Claus."

"Perfect," she replied, with a smile. "He already thinks I'm his grandmother, so having this 'Ded Moroz' could help move matters along quickly."

Outside the room, out of sight, Napoleon watched while he formulated a rescue plan. He needed to get to Illya, but he also wanted to take Dabree alive, and take control of the facility. The first thing he would have to do is call for an assault team. That would mean leaving his partner in the hands of the mad woman a while longer, but it was unfortunately necessary. There was no chance of getting a communicator signal in the caves, so Napoleon was going to have to find a telephone; without getting himself caught.

Illya was staring in wonderment at the man who was talking to his Babushka. He couldn't wait to get back to the village and tell his friends.

"So Illya, are you ready for the game?"

"Da."

"If you get a question correct, Ded Moroz will give you a present. Would you like that?"

"Da, da, da!"

"When will Alexander Waverly be making his next trip?"

Illya frowned. From somewhere in the back of his mind, the vision of a gruff, pipe smoking Englishman presented itself, and something told him it would be wrong to say anything about him.

"Come now, Illya," Dabree prompted. "You want a present don't you?"

The Russian shook his head. "I'm not allowed to say, Babushka,"

"I'll send Ded Moroz away then shall I?" the doctor threatened.

"NYET!"

"Then answer the question."

"Mr Waverly is attending a conference in San Francisco in three days. He will arrive there at 9:30 am, local time. Can I have my gift please?"

"Soon, little one. After you answer another question."

Illya gave her a look of consternation, but agreed.

"Did Napoleon Solo follow you here?"

"Napoleon is my friend," he said, with pride. "Can he have a gift too, Ded Moroz?"

Dr Dabree was beginning to lose patience. Kuryakin was obviously very deep in the hallucination, but when it came to questions about U.N.C.L.E., he was clearly resisting. She couldn't tell if he was naturally strong willed with regard to that subject, or whether he'd been conditioned to resist.

"Tell me what I want to know, and you can have all the presents to share with your friends."

"Napoleon is. . . Napoleon is. . "

"Napoleon is behind you," came the voice from the doorway.

Dabree and Murray both span around, but had no time to do anything else. Solo swiftly took them both down with a sleep darts.

"Are you okay, Tovarish?" he asked, as he released him. He felt icy to the touch."

"What did you do to Babushka and Ded Moroz?"

Napoleon sighed, before explaining that they were very tired, and were having a nap. Illya seemed to accept that explanation, then asked Solo if he had a coat. The American found Illya's clothes piled on floor and handed them to him. He also removed his own jacket and told the man to put it too. After tying the two unconscious people up, Napoleon turned his attention back to his partner. He'd heard enough to understand that Illya thought he was in a Russian forest, and was seemingly a child. Hopefully the effects of whatever had been given to him would wear off soon.

The U.N.C.L.E. assault team arrived twenty-five minutes later, and quickly secured the facility. By that time, Illya was curled up on the floor, sleeping.

"Illya, it's time to go home," Napoleon called.

A great many Russian expletives were uttered as Illya sat up, clutching is head.

"Either I drank the world's supply of vodka, or I was drugged again," he moaned.

Glancing around the room he noticed the crumpled form Dr Dabree and a man he didn't recognise.

"Drugs it is," he murmured.

Accepting Napoleon's help, Illya got to his feet, holding an arm out to keep his balance.

"Do you remember anything?" Solo asked.

"The last thing I can recall clearly, is calling you to tell you I couldn't find the building," he replied, groggily. "No doubt it will all come flooding back in my nightmares."

"On the plus side, we have control of this facility, and the apparent means of producing a new truth serum."

"Great," Illya replied flatly. "Does that mean I can go home?"

"Certainly, Tovarisch," Napoleon said, with a grin. "We'll see if Ded Moroz has left anything for you."

Illya shot him a puzzled glare, but Napoleon said nothing.


End file.
